


This Is The Sound Of My Silence, And The Scent Of Your Tears.

by orphan_account



Category: BLURRYFACE - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Blurryface, Coma, Comatose, Multi, Sadness, TRIGER WARNING, possible triggers, triggers?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6304684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((hah this is discontinued from a year ago)</p><p>Tyler Joseph tried to commit suicide, and now he's in a coma. He doesn't remember how or why he tried to take his own life, but sometimes he wishes he was dead so he could escape the taunting of Blurryface, the man inside his head. </p><p>What the doctors and nurses don't know is that Tyler can hear everything that's said around him, from the footsteps of doctors in the hall to sobs of his loved ones, and it hurts him more than what landed him in the hospital in the first place.</p><p>((trigger warnings for self harm))</p><p>Inspired by sodunwithyou's Isle Of Flightless Birds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hear You

**Author's Note:**

> yo 
> 
> this fic is inspired by sodunwithyou's story Isle Of Flightless Birds.

I had tried to commit suicide. I know that, but they never said how. All I ever hear now is the beeping of machines and the deafening silence, so I'm guessing they don’t let guests in the hospital room yet, so I'm trapped inside my own head, and it's driving me crazy. I miss the sound of Jenna's voice waking me up everyday, and the sound of Josh's laugh. I kept my madness and depression hidden quite well, just excusing the rings under my eyes because of insomnia, which wasn't a total lie, because the thoughts driving me to this hospital bed kept me up all night and day. 

By now, I regret trying to take my life, if only because I miss Josh, Jenna, and my family. I do have trouble sorting out which voice is right though. There's two of them. One is me, Tyler Joseph, and one is also me, but he's different. I call him Blurryface. He is the one who gave me all the negativity, all the overthinking and depression. 

Nothing kills a man faster than his own head, right?

Most of my time I use to remember things, and write songs in my head. I can't move, though, which is maddening. I hope they let visitors in soon, because I want to hear voices other than my own. Even when the doctors come in they just do tests and leave. They don't talk, but they sometimes hum, which is nice.

I try to move everyday, but to no avail. There are moments where I feel "awake" in a sense, like I can control my thoughts and what I think of, but there are also times when I feel asleep, and I dream. Usually its just dreams off violence and gore, but on rare occasions I have a nice dream. The last nice dream I had was of a moonlight beach, but it was just me, and I walked alone. It was lonely, but it was better than watching Josh die in hundreds of different ways and not being able to do anything about it. Sometimes in my nice dreams there's a piano or a ukulele, so I get to play them. 

Today is different though, I am absorbed in my own thoughts when I hear the rattling of locks being unlocking followed by the door opening. It's doctors again. I can tell there's two doctors in the room because of the steps I hear. I can feel the tension in the air, it's practically so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. I hear the doctors talking.

"He's been camping out here for two weeks, and he says he won't leave until we let him see Tyler. The girl stays here a lot, too." A female voice says.

I wonder if she is talking about Josh and Jenna, because I know my family wouldn't do that. Josh has the devotion of a loyal dog, and Jenna wouldn't leave him alone if I were gone for fear of him succumbing to my current fate. 

"We aren't supposed to let him in though. We can't bend the rules for one person, or else they'll all think we can violate the rules for them, too." A harsh male voice says. 

Why can't they let Josh and Jenna in? I'm in a coma, and it's not like I'm getting better. 

Josh doesn’t want to see you, freak. A voice says. I know he's Blurryface. 

Shut up. I tell him. For once, he listens.

I hear scribbling on paper, and then I feel my arm being lifted. I try as much as I can to move my fingers or twitch a little, I cant. I feel a light being shined into my eyes, but I cant move them. 

"We need to let him in. He's different. Scratch that, they're both different. They really love Tyler." The female voice says again. "Besides, it helps people in comas if they hear loved ones." 

The male voice speaks again, sounding annoyed. "We don't know that for sure."

"Yes we do, you just refuse to acknowledge it because you know you're losing this argument." the female voice says.

I like the female, she sounds welcoming, and she always hums when she checks on me alone. Maybe if I ever wake up I'll get to know her.

"Becky, you're a pain in the ass." the male says.

So that's what her name is. Becky. I like that. That sounds like a nice name.

"So?" Becky says, drawing out the o.

"Fine. We can let them in." The male voice said, obviously totally done with Becky.

If I was awake, I would smile and thank Becky, but I can't so I settle for a nice thought.

They won't come in, they hate you. Freak. Blurryface says maliciously. 

No, they're my friends, and I love them. They wouldn't be here if they didn't want to see me. I argue with Blurryface. He's silent, so I know I've won. 

I am preparing myself mentally to hear Josh and Jenna when the door open and Becky tells them they can come in. I hear scuffling, and Jenna say, "oh my gosh!". I hear nothing from Josh, but I inwardly smile at Jenna's voice, because I've missed it. 

Then the door closes and I hear quick footsteps, and I feel a soft and small hand grab my right one. I can tell it's Jenna by the ring on her thumb.

I hear Josh sit down on my left, and I think he's breathing heavier. Maybe he sees marks from how I tried to kill myself, or maybe he jut has no words. That's unusual for Josh, he usually fills the air with his jokes and witticisms. But then again, if I were in his pace I wouldn’t know what to say either. I don't even want to think about my best friend in a coma, lying limp and waxen on a hospital bed, but then I realize that's exactly what Josh has to see right now. 

He's not saying anything because he hates you. He hates you, he hates you, he hates you. Blurryface taunts at me. I know he's not real, just a voice in my head, but it still hurts. And what hurts even more is that I know he's me, so these cruel thoughts are no one's but my own. 

Stop it. I tell him, but I know my excuse is weak. He won't stop, he never does, and he probably never will.

Do you know why Josh and Jenna hate you, freak? It's because you're a failure, nothing but a failure. They never loved you. Blurryface scolds. 

Maybe he's right, maybe I am a failure, but I'm a failure that they have come to love.

I don't give a damn about what you say. I tell him, but it's not true, and he knows it.

I can almost hear Blurryface laughing at me, because he knows how much of a lie that was. I will always give a damn what he thinks and says, because he's me, and you can't escape your own thoughts.

I am arguing with myself and listening for speech in the room when Becky talks. I didn't know she is still in here.

"You should talk to him, it helps comatose patients." Becky says kindly with a quiet voice, careful not to disturb the grief clinging to everything in the hospital room.

I can tell Josh and Jenna nod, but they don’t say anything for a few moments. Jenna rubs small circles on my hand with her thumb, just like she always does. 

Then Josh speaks. "Tyler," he says, his voice breaking, "please wake up. Please." the last word is more of a sob, and I ca tell he's crying. 

Those words, spoken by my best friend, hurt. They hurt worse than Blurryface's, and they burn. If only Josh could know, I am trying to wake up. I'm trying all I can, but I'm stuck. I'm stuck with my murderous thoughts, and my sadness, and these beeping machines. 

All that cuts through the silence now is Josh's sobs, and I think that maybe, just maybe, it would be better if I had died, if only so I wouldn't have to hear the cries of my loved ones.

And with that thought, I drift into dream world, wondering what horror awaits me there.


	2. "But I'm You."

In my dream world I watch my body float through the mountains. I can tell it's cold even if I don’t feel it. I see a small pale and waxen man in a hospital gown walking through snow. He shivers, and brings his painfully thin hands up to his arms and rubs them. It doesn’t help, no, but it gives the man something to do, something to help him get away from his brain. In my dream world snow starts to fall. The man -me- looks up at the white sky and sighs through his chattering teeth. 

I'm really surprised that this dream isn't violent and sad. Lucky, even. My dreams now usually are filled with screams, gore, and pleading. 

The man keeps walking, but his pace had slowed down considerably. He raises his hands to his mouth and exhales onto them, but it doesn’t seem to help him. I can tell it doesn’t, because his bring his hands right back to their old position. 

I loose interest in the man, and take a look around. On both sides of me are forest, the kind that makes you suddenly very afraid. As soon as I take a look in those trees and see a red figure running, I know this dream isn't going to end well. What a fool I was to think that my brain would give me a sliver of relief and not the usual platter of horror. I cant look away by the time the man is pounced upon. I do not know what this creature is, nor hoe my mind thought it up. It red and bleeding, and there are streaks of the warm liquid across the snow where it had ran. The man turns his head just to meet the creature. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The thing, with no particular body formation, somehow extends talons, or maybe claws. They grip the mans chest, and elect a burst of blood. 

I wake with a start. I still cannot move, but I am free in the black depths of my own thoughts again, stuck watching the back of my eyelids. The first thing I am aware of is a heavy weight on my side. Its not heavy enough to hurt, just heavy enough to be slightly uncomfortable. I know its Jenna, and I then register my hand still in Josh's. I can tell by his slow breathing that he is asleep, as is Jenna. It must be night, as I can no longer hear the loud bustle, only a few voices. I of course hear the beeping machines still. I to would be to much to hope for them to be gone. Then again, if they weren't here I would probably be dead. 

And then you'd be no more trouble, Tyler. No one would miss you, and no one would care. Blurryface sneers at me.

That's not true. I tell him. Jenna and Josh love me they're holding my hands. Why would they be here if they hate me? 

Blurryface doesn’t respond and I feel a rush of accomplishment. I go through my usual rounds, trying to move each part of my body. I don’t have any luck, so I stop and think. When will I wake up? How long have I been here? I'm guessing I've been here in this hospital room for about 14 days, but I'm not sure. And that’s only judging by a cycle of nurses coming in and dreaming horrible dreams. 

14 days. I think about that number. You could say fourteen is a small number, insignificant almost, until you have an example. Fourteen days in a prison cell, fourteen days trapped in a bomb shelter, fourteen days living in fear, fourteen days sitting in an empty room slowly starving. 

Fourteen days trapped in a coma, unable to move, but thinking, hearing, and being killed by your own mind. 

Then again, fourteen can be a small number as I thought earlier. Fourteen pieces of rice, fourteen drops of paint on a colorless canvas, fourteen keys on a piano, fourteen beats on a drum.

Fourteen, that may be all you have left. You could die despite all the machines, or they could take you off the machines. You would be dead, and dead with me. Blurryface pops into my head and says.

Go away. Leave me alone. I tell him. I know it’s a feeble response, but I can't think of anything else.

Leave you? Just like Josh and Jenna will? They hate you, because you're terrible, you're ugly, you're a failure. Nothing but a failure.

That's not true. They love me. Don't they? No, I tell myself I cant let Blurryface get what he wants. But I also cant defeat him. 

No, they don’t love you. They don’t even care. He sneers viciously. 

No! Stop! Go away! All you do is feed on my brain, and vomit it back up fearful and sad. What sort of pleasure do you get from this? You claim to be a man, yet you torture me like a coward. That's all you are. You're a coward. I say to him.

There's a pause in which I think he's been beaten, but then Blurryface says, But I'm you.

And I realize, that's why I can't run from him. Blurryface is me, my thoughts, my insecurities, my pent up emotions. 

I suddenly feel sick, and I will myself to sleep.


	3. Ocean Dream

In my dream hell, the first thing I become aware of is sand on my feet. I open my eyes and look around me. I'm standing on a soft white beach, the blue water swaying on the shore close on my right, and a forest of palm trees to m left, and never-ending beach to my front and back. I look at my hands and body, and see that I'm wearing beach clothes. A bright orange shirt, kaki shorts, and light brown sandals. I feel thankful that I'm not in a hospital gown.

It's a nice change to what I'm used to, and I feel a sliver of hope that this dream might be a good one. 

I'm about to sit down on the soft ground when I notice something on the shore. At first I think it is just a coconut, because, again, I'm on a beach, but then I look closer and see that it is in fact not a coconut. I can't tell what it is from where I stand, so I walk to the water and investigate. 

I'm nearing the object, and make the mistake of dipping my sandal-clad foot into the blue ocean. I scream ad immediately pull it out of the water. The ocean water is burning. Red welts and burns appear on my foot, and I realize that this dream that appears innocent and nice, has a malicious twist, just like all the others. 

Even with my injured foot, I still hobble to the brown blob, dragging my foot in the sand, and now that I'm near to it I see that it’s a ukulele. I feel my heart rate quicken and I try go move quicker. The sand on my foot hurts, not as much as I thought it would, so I speed up my pace.

Finally I reach the instrument, and I hesitate. What if it burns me like the water did? What if it is a torture device of my mind? I push these thoughts away and I reach for it. My hands curl around the neck, and suddenly I feel at peace. I hobble farther away form the water (just in case) and sit down. I put the ukulele to my chest and I finger a chord, then begin to idly strum. The notes come freely, an di realize how much I've missed this. Music. I think about it, and my hands suddenly fall into a familiar pattern. I begin to sing. 

"She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, 

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone, 

Would you

Take care of me?" etc etc

I finish the song, and I breathe out a contented breath. How did I forget the pleasures of music? How in all the time I've been trapped here have I not longed for the feel of strings under my fingers, the piano keys at my hands, song coming from my mouth?

Suddenly I feel very tired, so, still clutching the ukulele, lay down on the soft white beach.

***

When I wake up in my coma, I hear chatter. It takes me a second to recognize the voice, but then I realize that it's Becky, feebly trying to make conversation with Josh and Jenna. I hear Becky checking the machines, and I remember I haven't tried to move yet today.

I quickly try to move my feet, no luck. Legs, no luck. Torso, no luck. Shoulders, no luck. Upper arm, no luck. 

Hand, wait. Did I just move my right hand? 

I hear Jenna stop in the middle of her sentence. 

"He- He moved. His hand. It twitched. I felt it, I swear, he- oh my gosh! Ty, Ty wake up!" Jenna says quickly.

I hear quick footsteps and I know its Becky. "Elevated heart rate, increased brain activity. Its him." She says happily.

I cannot partake in the happiness however. Internally, I'm screaming. I'm yelling at the top of my lungs. I want to wake up. I want to wake up. 

But you never will. Poor Tyler. Poor, poor little Tyler. Blurryface sneers. I really should've expected him.

I'm waking up. And once I'm awake I can get rid of you, forever. I say to him.

I can practically hear him scoff. Please. You can't get rid of yourself even in death. Just try. Try, and you'll see how much of a failure you really are. He says.

Failure I am? If you're me, and I'm you, you're just as much of a "failure" as I am. Every time you say something to me, I've already thought of it, somewhere inside my head. You just picked it out and spat it back up toward me. Or should I say you? You say these things because you have nothing better to do. I say to him, spiting venom with every word. 

One day, Tyler, you'll see how wrong you are. You created me. I'm yours, under your control and power. I'm saying this now because you want me to. Somewhere deep inside you want to hear me say this, to fight with me and try to prove me wrong. All you are is a lonely little boy, completely oblivious to the people in your life. If only you could hear what your precious Josh is thinking right now. It would ruin you. Blurryface says, his voice gentle, as if almost trying to lull me.

You're lying. All you are is pollution. I don’t know why the hell you're here. And I certainly did not create you. I say. He has to be lying. I didn’t to that. 

Did I? 

Oh, Tyler. Your follies are hilarious. He says quietly.

Maybe I did.


End file.
